


Five Times Steve and Bucky went to a Jazz Club, and the one time they didn't

by Billie Evans (ohfairchild)



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Jazz Age, Jazz Club, M/M, Stucky - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-11
Updated: 2014-04-11
Packaged: 2018-01-18 23:35:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1447054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohfairchild/pseuds/Billie%20Evans
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the 1930s, it's Brooklyn. The cigarette smoke curls low over the musicians as they take the stage, the small underground bar filled to the brim with people dressed to the nines ready to dance the night away to the swinging tunes of Duke Ellington and Thelonious Monk. Steve and Bucky, underage and jazz-mad, make it their aim to sneak in. What they don't know is that they'll end up falling in love with the music, falling in love with the city and falling in love with each other just as the threat of World War Two begins to loom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The first time Steve and Bucky went to a jazz club they almost didn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=15Xc_OJLDpc

“Come on!” Bucky hissed, walking two paces in front of Steve. Steve hopped a couple of steps to catch up, pulling the collar of his ill-fitting shirt up around his neck. Bucky had thrust it upon him half an hour ago and buttoned it up quickly because Steve couldn’t quite manage it. 

“You want to get in, don’t you?” He’d said, yanking on a blazer made of some thick navy-blue material that was a little too snug around the muscles that had sprung up in his back and arms last summer.

“Course I do!” 

“Then leave your shirt alone. You’ll look nervous.” 

“I look nervous anyway,” Steve rolled his eyes. “That’s just my face.” 

“Shut up, Rogers.” 

“Don’t be a jerk, Barnes.” 

They were standing outside The Blue Lagoon, windows blacked out and a man in a suit on the door, smoking a cigarette in a quietly confident way. He leaned languidly against the wall, one foot tapping away as though he could hear music that no one else could. He drew smoke in and held it for a moment before blowing it out with a hum of contentment. Steve drew himself up a little taller and puffed his skinny chest out. 

Bucky strode up to the door and placed a hand on the wooden handle, only for the suited man to place a hand over his. 

“I don’t think so,” he said, in a smooth voice. “You gotta be twenty-one at least.” 

“We are twenty-one.” Bucky protested. 

The man looked between Bucky and Steve, one eyebrow sliding higher and higher up his face. He took one last drag on his cigarette before throwing it down at Steve’s feet, landing a little close to his too-shined shoes. With a careless foot he ground out the stub and laughed.

“I don’t think so, friend. Why don’t you come back when you’re old enough, huh?” 

Bucky glowered angrily, fists clenching down at his sides. Steve, sensing trouble, grabbed his best friend by the elbow. He relaxed slowly. 

“It’s alright Mister.” Steve said. “ Don’t mean nothing by it. We just want to see the band.” 

The man in the suit shrugged. 

“Don’t blame you. It’s Benny Carter on tonight and he’s playing a keen set.” 

Steve thought of the stacks of records on his night-stand at home and sighed wistfully. 

“Look, pal.” The man in the suit shrugged. “It’ll be real busy in there tonight, and I doubt no-body’s going to notice a pair like you if you keep your heads down.” 

Bucky’s head jerked up, a slow smile spreading across his face. 

“Heads down, you hear me?” The man said, pulling open the door as Bucky and Steve slipped inside. “How old are you kids anyway?” 

“We told you sir!” Bucky grinned. “We’re twenty one.” 

They could hear the soft thrill of the drums from the first level and as they descended the stairs together it only got louder. The dull thump and hiss of the snare drum wended its way into Steve’s soul and he found himself swaying a little with the timing of the rhythm. Bucky squeezed his arm in the darkness and he knew his friend would be grinning his face off. 

“We made it, didn’t we?” Bucky whispered. 

“Sure did, Buck.” 

Walking into the main room was like walking into a sauna. The heat reflected off the dark walls and smothered the patrons of the club in ambient warmth, while the smoke of a thousand cigarettes mingled in the air like ink suspended in water. The whole club hung, listening to the slow beat of the drums and the deep sonorous swing of the bass. They seemed to be waiting for something. 

And as Bucky and Steve found seats at a small table in the dark back corner of the room, they realised what it was. The saxophonist lifted the golden instrument to his mouth and began to play. The room fair soared. You could hear every foot in the room tap along to the slow pace, despite the murmuring voices and the clinks of drinks from the bar in the back. 

“Hey, you got a five-spot?” Bucky said. “I’m beat, but I’ll get us drinks if you got one.” 

Steve parted reluctantly with his money. There were a lot of things he liked about Bucky, but his fondness with spending other people’s money was not one of them. 

But he watched his friend at the bar from across the room. The way he commanded the barkeep’s attention with such a confident ease, one elbow on the wood and the other tucked in the strained blazer’s pocket. Steve ducked his head and stared at his hands, cigarette smoke curling around his burning ears and let the music wash over him. 

“Here.” Bucky placed a glass of something tall and cold in front of him. “Next time I’ll pay, alright doll-face?”

“Don’t be all wet. I’m not your dame.” 

“I’m only teasing. Drink your drink and enjoy the music.” 

And Steve did as he was told.


	2. The second time Steve and Bucky went to a jazz club, they danced

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KkK0rvdtjm8  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CZz7yg45y5Y

The room was already hot by the time they arrived. The trumpeter was on the small raised stage, the pianist so close to the front row of tables they could have reached up and wiped the sweat off his brow with a napkin if they so chose. He was bent over the black and white keys, face scrunched up in concentration as he cocked his head on one side as though he were listening intently to his instrument. 

“It’s Earl Hines!” Steve breathed in Bucky’s ear and the bigger boy smiled because Steve was so excited. 

“You want drinks, moll?” He asked, standing a little too close to Steve. This time he’d ditched the blazer and was wearing a soft loose-necked shirt with an undone bow tie slung around the collar. 

“Aren’t you going to do that up?” Steve had asked as they’d got ready at Bucky’s house, watching his friend in the mirror. 

“No. Looks just keen like this, dontcha think?” Bucky twisted this way and that, taking a look at himself. 

Steve looked out of the window, trying not to notice the outlines of the biceps Bucky so clearly had under that soft shirt. 

“Yeah, you do Bucks.” 

Now Steve scowled. 

“You’re calling me girl names.” He protested. 

“Sure I am. You wanna dance?” 

The packed dance floor was filled with couples swinging together, long necklaces of the broads on the floor flying free. Steve raised one eyebrow. 

“Maybe after a drink then?” Bucky suggested

“Maybe.” 

“You got a sawbuck then? I’m beat again.” 

Once again, Steve handed over his money. He stood awkwardly against the wall, hands in pockets, hands out of pockets. He couldn’t find a good place to put them. 

“Hey pal. How old are you?” 

He span quickly at the sound of the voice, coming from some place on his left. There was a woman sitting, one leg crossed over the other. She wore a loose white dress and it contrasted sharply with her dark skin. She leaned forwards and the fringe at the hem and collar of her dress swung in time with the tapping bass. In one hand she held a long ivory cigarette holder, a Marlboro, barely smoked. 

“I-I’m twenty-one.” Steve said, mouth dry as anything.

Steve took a quick glance over to the bar, but Bucky was facing away from him, one hand at the small of some woman in green’s back, mouth close to her ear. 

“Sure you are honey, and I’m not a day over twenty myself.” 

“Please, I’m just here for the music.” 

“So am I.” The woman cocked an eyebrow. She was beautiful, with her tightly curled hair swept back off her face and her lips painted a deep shade of plum. “That’s what we’re all here for.” 

She took a long drag on the ivory holder, the end coming off purple.  
“What’s your name?” 

“Steven.” 

“Pleasure. I’m Marie. Would you care to dance?” She drawled. 

Steve took another quick glance at the bar. Bucky had gone. 

“Look, I’m flattered.” He said carefully 

“You should be.” Marie replied coyly. 

“I can’t dance.” Steve admitted. “I mean…” He gestured at himself and tried for a laugh to break the silence. 

Marie did not laugh. 

“I’m not blind. I want to dance. You gotta face like a hardboiled joe and I felt like I had to do something about it.”

So Steve followed her onto the dance floor.

The pianist and the trumpeter on the stage threw each other a look and launched into a rousing ensemble which had the walls vibrating. And Marie taught Steve how to dance. 

“You just gotta let your hips swing,” she crowed joyfully. “Let the music lead you!” 

Steve had eyes only for her, the fringing on her dress dancing with the jiving woman. He tipped his chin up and let the bass and the snare sing through him like a melody only those instruments and his bones shared. 

Then he was bumped from behind. 

“Good going pal!” It was Bucky, arm in arm with the girl in green, who wore her hair in a bow high on her head. He swung her round and the two friends grinned at each other. 

On the way home that night, hands in pockets and Bucky swaggering alongside him, Steve was still smiling. 

“She was fine, Steve. You see the way she moved?” 

“Yeah, and your dame too - pretty keen.” 

Bucky shrugged. “Wasn’t watching her.” 

Steve looked up at him. Bucky grabbed a street lamp and swung all the way round it, undone bow tie flying in the wind. 

“You weren’t?” 

Bucky slung an arm round Steve’s shoulder. 

“No,” he said firmly. “No, I wasn’t.”


	3. The third time Steve and Bucky went to a jazz club, Bucky bought drinks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GaSKL1iqpf8  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E2vDYERv2WE

The trumpet trilled and the smoke hung low that night. Steve sat in a booth in the back corner of The Blue Lagoon and let Duke Ellington play joy on his trumpet to the rowdy applause of every other patron in the place. It was full to the brim, people pretty much standing on your heels every step you took. The tables were pushed together so tight you could barely get through, but it seemed like the waiters taking orders on the nicer tables could hop over chairs and fly over tables without missing a step. 

Bucky slid into the chair next to Steve and placed a drink in front of him. A single cold droplet slid down the side of the glass and pooled on the dark wood table. 

“What’s this?” Steve asked in surprise. 

“What does it look like?” Bucky nudged him. “It’s a drink.” 

“But you didn’t ask me for any money.” 

Bucky had the decency to look shame-faced. 

“Alright, sure. But I ain’t beat no more and I wanna treat my babe.” 

Steve scowled. 

“I don’t like it when you call me names like that.” 

Bucky shrugged. 

“That’s fair, Steve. But I buy you a drink, I want to see you drink it.”

So Steve wrapped his hand around the cold glass and took a long, slow sip. 

“Good, huh?” Bucky grinned. “They know what they’re doing with gin here.” 

“They sure do.” 

They sat in silence for a little while longer, legs pressed together under the crooked table. Waiters and people bustled past them on the main floor, but here in this main corner they were more or less undisturbed. 

“There’s talk, Steve.” Bucky said haltingly. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“You’ve seen the papers, haven’t you? What’s happening in Europe?” 

Steve took another sip of his drink and felt himself smile involuntarily. 

“Bucky, there’s a great deal of ocean between us and Europe. You don’t worry your pretty little head about it.”

“Hey!” Bucky’s mouth dropped open and he nudged Steve’s shoulder. “Now look who’s treating who like a dame!”   
“Don’t tell me you don’t deserve it.” Steve shrugged. “You got the pretty-girl eyes.”

“Yeah, and you got the ‘help me,I’m fragile’ body.” 

Oh

Bucky must have seen the look on Steve’s face. 

“No, no - Steve, I’m so sorry. That was - I shouldn’t have said that.” He said, spreading his hands wide. 

Steve gripped his drink hard and said nothing. 

“Look, I’ll buy you another, okay?” Bucky got to his feet. 

When he was gone, Steve passed one hand over his eyes and breathed in very slowly. Once, twice, three times. The smell of cigarette smoke filled his lungs, grating on the corners of his senses, but he ignored it. 

“Steve-” Bucky had reappeared, another cold glass of gin in his hand. 

“It’s alright Bucks.” Steve smiled. “You don’t have to get me drunk.” 

“You’re more fun drunk.” 

Three drinks later and Steve’s head had started to swim. He leant back against the hard back of the chair and watched Bucky loosen his red tie. His hair was ruffled out of place on top, the same way he liked to do when he was trying to get attention off girls, but his body language was different. He was stretched out, arms locked behind his head, feet extended under the table, an easy smile across his face. 

“You having fun yet?” He asked Steve.

Steve nodded in reply. The dance floor was a heaving mass of bodies, the exertion on Duke’s face visible under the spotlight from the back of the smoking room. The lights had been turned down and their seats at the back of the room were embraced in obscurity, the dark hugging in tight around them. 

He felt something on his knee and he jerked. 

“Don’t.” Bucky whispered, pulling his chair ever closer. “It’s just me.” 

He relaxed as his best friend reached for his hand and squeezed it. Slightly inebriated, Steve squeezed back, heart glowing with music and happiness. 

The trumpet continued to sing and the patrons continued to dance. When Steve and Bucky walked home in the early hours of the morning, they were still hand in hand. The warm glowing feeling in Steve’s heart refused to be quenched.


	4. The fourth time Steve and Bucky went to a jazz club, Steve had to be carried home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D9ka7Eqw5u8  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SyeRt0jk7t4&list=RDD9ka7Eqw5u8

The pianist was having a great time, but Steve was not.

“I told you the gin was good here!” Bucky grinned. He was back in the navy blazer he’d worn on their first visit, but he wasn’t able to do it up any more and the cuffs stopped an inch shy of his wrists. Steve wore another oversized shirt and had only managed to un-hunch his back during the last couple of drinks. 

Bucky had undone the top button of his shirt, one arm around a girl who had the same look on her face that every girl did when they saw Bucky these days. He had an easy smile on his face, his hair messed up and a cigarette between his fingers. Steve only had his drink. 

“Say doll, you got a girlfriend you can bring over for my pal?” Bucky said, taking his arm off the girl, who looked faintly desperate to see it go. 

She scrunched up her face and looked Steve up and down. He took a long sip from his drink and swallowed, the bitter taste of gin burning his throat on the way home. 

“I’ll go and get Barbie.” She said sulkily. “Her fella went off to the army a while back and she been mooning ever since. She could do with a cheering up.” 

She stalked off. 

Bucky watched her retreating back. 

“I don’t know if she’ll come back.” Steve said softly. 

Bucky shrugged. 

“Don’t care if she does.” He said nonchalantly. “Her conversation wasn’t all that thrilling anyway.” 

But she did come back, dragging an even sulkier friend behind her. Barbie was dressed in blue, hair tightly curled and secured at the back of her neck with an innumerable supply of hairpins. Red lipstick in a shade that didn’t suit her glued her lips together and she took a seat next to Steve with all the enthusiasm of a man going off to war. 

“I’m Barbie.” She said, extending a hand to Steve. 

Steve shook it and took another slug of his drink, till just ice was left in the glass. 

“You want one?” He lifted the empty tumbler up and rattled it at the girl he was supposed to entertain. Bucky had his arm back round his doll, gazing into her eyes and no doubt whispering all kinds of stupid things into her ear. 

“Go ahead.” Barbie replied, and pulled out a compact. 

He could barely see over the bar, even on tiptoes. For one moment he tried to lean his elbow on it like he’d seen Bucky do all those other times, but it was too tall and he just looked stupid. 

“Hi - two gin sours please.” He nodded as the barkeep caught his eye. The bigger man paused for a moment, as though he was going to question Steve’s age. Steve locked eye contact with him until he pulled out two glasses and poured in a healthy measure of gin. If you acted like you expected something to be done, it would be done. That was Bucky’s trick. 

Cold glasses in hand, Steve manoeuvred back to the table and placed the drink in front of Barbie. She thanked him without looking up. 

So he drank his and this time he didn’t notice the gin burn.  
Barbie was leaning over the table making eyes at Bucky. 

“My fella’s going off to join the army.” She said, looking his friend up and down. “You joining too.” 

Bucky, who couldn’t exactly admit he wasn’t quite old enough yet, nodded. 

“Sure I am.” He laughed. “Next week I got my enlistment. Steve’s coming too, aren’t you lad?” 

Steve looked from from a drink he didn’t know he was drinking and nodded. The lights of the stage buzzed at the corners of his vision and his head was started to drift upwards into the clouds, borne on a chariot of gin and music. 

“I am?” He asked, looking at Bucky until he gradually shifted into focus. 

A shadow of worry crossed Bucky’s face and passed as quickly as it had come. Now Barbie was sitting on his right, the other girl on his left. Steve didn’t know how they had got there. 

“Sure you are.” Bucky said. “Can’t go to war without my best friend.” 

“My fella says dreadful things are happening out in Europe.” Barbie said, nasal voice grinding Steve’s nerves to shreds. 

“You ever say anything your fella doesn’t say first?” He snapped and instantly knew he’d made a mistake. The girl’s face went white, apart from two high splotches of colour on her face. 

“Come on Lana, we’re leaving. Clearly we’re not wanted here.” She stood up and reached a hand to her friend, who joined her extremely reluctantly.

“Bye James!” She cried as her friend dragged her away, waving frantically with her free hand. 

Bucky tossed her a careless salute, before turning back round to Steve. 

“What was that for?” He hissed. 

Steve shrugged and downed the drink he’d bought for Barbie. 

“Not like you could have brought her home anyway.” He slurred. 

Bucky carefully moved the drink out of Steve’s hands. 

“I think you’ve had enough.” He said firmly. “I’m taking you home.” 

The cold night air broke over Steve like a rolling wave. Upon walking two steps he stumbled and leant against a wall, stomach bubbling with gin and his throat raw from the burn. The lights of the street were blurring into one and the pavement seemed to pitch and move like he was on the deck of a ship in a storm. 

“I’m so sorry, Bucks.” He choked as he stood, steadying himself. 

Bucky sighed and wrapped an arm under Steve’s shoulder, pulling him upright. 

“It’s alright doll.” He said, flicking Steve’s nose. “How about I take you home?”

Steve leant his head against Bucky’s firm shoulder. 

“I think I’d like that.”


	5. The fifth time Steve and Bucky went to a jazz club, trouble broke out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BL_nejDM3mQ  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O7D3TGk2rhw

Thelonious Monk was playing and Steve felt more alone than ever. 

“Told them I was twenty-one.” Bucky said proudly, one hand around a drink, the other slung over the back of Steve’s chair. 

“And?” 

“And I’m going off to basic training in two weeks, Steve. I’m going to be a hero.” 

Steve ducked his head and said nothing. There was an awful pause as they both searched for something to say. Finding nothing, Steve let the mournful piano melody roll past and over him, getting caught up in the slow and careful notes. Beside him, Bucky took another swig of his drink and listened to the melody without understanding it. 

“Hey,” he said softly, leaning in. “It’s not so bad.” 

“No, I really like Thelonious Monk.” Steve answered, without opening his eyes. 

“That’s not what I meant. Look at me.” 

Steve opened one eye and then the other. 

“I’m listening.” He said reproachfully. 

“I know, but - Steve, there’s things I need to say.”

“If they’re about going away, I don’t want to hear them.” 

“It’s war, not a holiday!” 

Steve blushed. 

“You know what I mean. We won’t have…” He gestured wordlessly at the smokey club, emptier now than it used to be. The dance floor had on it only a few scattered couples, only a handful of tables at the front full, mostly of old timers who came for the music and the company and not much else. Most of the young men had gone, and the young women had followed them. 

“We won’t have this.” Steve said lamely. 

“We’ll still have each other. Even when we have nothing, we’ll have each other.” Bucky smiled and Steve shrugged. 

“Not if you’re going away.” 

“I’ll still be looking out for you.” Bucky said. “Just the bullies will be bigger this time.” 

“And they’ll have guns.” Steve reminded him. 

“Yes, thank you. I had almost forgotten.” 

Bucky’s jaw was set, eyes shining in the half-light.   
“Bucks, it’s alright. You will be a hero.” 

His friend looked at him and managed to smile for the first time that evening. 

He leant in closer, arm trailing off the back of Steve’s chair and onto his shoulder. He drew the smaller boy into him and Steve’s heart started racing. Then Bucky’s fingers were soft under his chin, as though suggesting very gently that he should turn his face up. And Steve welcomed the suggestion. Bucky’s eyes were so blue, and it was so dark in this corner but they shone, shone so brilliantly. 

“Bucks-” He managed, before his friend kissed him. 

His lips were so soft, but he could feel the beginnings of the scratchy beard that Bucky had been watching grow at in the mirror every morning before they left. There was the slightest brush of pressure and then Bucky’s mouth was gone and Steve ached for more. There was a kind of dull pain in his stomach, as though he’d been offered something he desperately wanted and then watched it be taken away. 

“God, Bucky.” Steve said throatily. “Wha-”

“Don’t speak.” Bucky begged him. Then he kissed him again, this time more strongly, more passionately. His lips were a little chapped, and he could feel Bucky’s breath catch in his throat as he threaded his fingers through Steve’s blond hair, pulling his head just a little this way. Steve’s hands were caught between their chests and he had one pressed up against Bucky’s heart, which was racing fit to burst. 

They broke apart, Bucky’s eyes glittering with what he’d pretend weren’t tears. 

He turned his face away for a moment and Steve stayed where he was, trying to reconcile everything that had just happened with what he knew about Bucky and how things were. 

“Get out.” 

The barkeep was standing in front of them, a tall back man with hands the size of serving platters and muscles like melons. He had his arms crossed over his black waistcoat, apron discarded behind the bar. 

Bucky stood up, and for all his growing muscles, Steve could see how much of a lanky, gangly teenager he was compared to a grown man. 

“Why?” He said, voice still husky. “We’re not doing anything wrong.” 

“We don’t serve your kind in here.” The barkeep replied. “Now get out before we throw you out.” 

And Bucky, stupid, brave idiot that he was, replied with: 

“No. No, we won’t.” 

That’s when the barkeep punched him. 

This time Steve was the one with an arm under Bucky’s, taking him home. 

“There’s some fights you don’t pick.” He said as Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to stop the bleeding. His left eye was puffy, his bottom lip split and there were numerous cuts on his cheekbones. 

“I’ll pick any fight over you.” Bucky said grimly. 

“Well you look awful now.” 

Bucky stopped and turned. Under the soft glow of the street lamps Steve winced. Every cut and shadow on Bucky’s face was thrown into sharp relief. 

“Still good enough to kiss?” He asked, hands spread wide and an attempt at a cheeky wink with his swollen eye. 

“Course you are,” Steve rasped. “You always are.”


	6. The one time they stayed at home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tgltKizovjg  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FTlKzkdtW9I

Bucky’s bruises were fading and so was Steve’s courage. His friend lay on his bed, staring up at the ceiling with dark eyes and his hands folded across his chest. His bag stood packed at the door, uniform hung on a clothes hanger on the wardrobe, reminding Steve every time he looked at it that Bucky was leaving. Bucky was leaving and the chances that he was coming back… Well, somethings didn’t bear thinking about. 

Steve sat next to Bucky, pushing him a little bit to get his bum on the bed. 

“You want a coffee?” He asked. “It’s still hot.” 

Truth was, he was ready to try anything to get Bucky to speak to him. The bigger man had been silent for the last few days, staring either at the door or listening to the war reports on the wireless with his jaw set and his eyes hard as stone. Anything that Steve had tried to get him to break out of the strange trance Bucky had found himself in had failed. 

“No.” Bucky said now. “I don’t want coffee.” 

“We could go to a different jazz club?” Steve suggested. “Somewhere where they don’t know us.” 

“I don’t want to go out.” 

“Well for fuck’s sake, Bucky, what do you want?” Steve rose angrily, throwing his hands in the air. 

And Bucky finally sat up, hair ruffled from having lain down on the bed for so long, a couple of days’ worth of stubble coating his chin and neck. 

“What do I want?” He pushed himself off the bed, face glowering, every tendon in his neck tensed. “What do I want? I want there not to be a war. I don’t want to fight. Steve, I don’t want to go. I want… I want to stay here with you.” 

His friend’s shoulders dropped and he looked at Steve with wild eyes. 

“I’m not supposed to be scared, Steve. Not me. Not…” 

“It’s okay,” Steve gripped Bucky by the shoulders and pulled him into a hug, trying to ignore the desperate, hungry look in his friend’s eyes. “It’ll all be alright.” 

Bucky shuddered for one moment in Steve’s arms, then broke away, pulling Steve’s chin up towards him. Steve let him take the kiss, though it was rougher than it had been before and it felt as though Bucky were seeking something Steve could not offer him. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” He murmured, so close that he could feel Bucky’s eyelashes on his cheeks. 

He let himself be led, Bucky pressing harder and harder kisses to Steve’s lips. Then, with a dull roar, he pushed Steve up against the cold wall of the apartment, one arm hooked around his back. Finally, their faces were at the same height, Steve’s legs wrapped around Bucky’s waist. Bucky kissed him fervently, teeth biting at his bottom lip. Finally, Bucky opened his mouth and then- 

“Bucky” Steve moaned, because Bucky just circled his hips, slowly, carefully against Steve’s. 

“This is what I want.” Bucky whispered in Steve’s ear and every hair on Steve’s neck stood on end as Bucky pushed his hands under Steve’s shirt - the same one he’d worn on that first night to the jazz club, all that time ago - and ran his fingers over every inch of Steve’s skin as though he were trying to remember every bump and freckle of him. 

Bucky ground against him again, face buried deep in Steve’s neck and his beard was scratching him as Bucky roughly sucked and kissed at the skin, leaving little marks that wouldn’t fade so easy. 

“Please-” Steve begged, feeling himself grow hard.

Bucky fumbled at the buttons on Steve’s trousers, trying to catch the material and failing each time. 

“Here,” Steve said softly. “I’ll do it.” 

Bucky grunted as Steve undid himself, fingers still working on Steve’s skin, mouth still sucking at his neck. Then his feet were back on the floor and Bucky was sliding down him, hands trailing, head ducked and Steve leant his head back against the wall and gasped. 

Afterwards they lay in the single bed together and Steve let Bucky trace circles on his skinny chest. The bigger man looked happier now, no longer as lost and broken as he had before. His eyes were shining in quite a different way. 

“You’re still my dame, Steve. You know that?” He whispered. 

Steve nudged him. “You know know I don’t like it when you call me girl names.” But he laughed. 

Bucky hummed in agreement and leant over to brush the softest kiss against Steve’s lips. 

“But you are my gal. You gonna wait for me to come back from war?” 

Steve gripped his hand, hard. 

“You sure you gonna come back?” He asked, trying to keep his voice steady. 

“Course I’m sure,” Bucky gave him one last kiss. “After all, I’m with you till the end of the line.”


End file.
